Stupid Day

By
It all started with cupcakes, bras and the usual no pants. I guess it was kind of a normal day,, we ate brownies and cupcakes for breakfast; Emily was sleeping late; and Norah and I were playing Webkinz with the seventh graders. Of course they were [playing yet another river excursion and we were left to fend for our selves at home. WE had to top them; we had to do the one thing they were not allowed to do, go to Boston. We can’t see any reason not to and quickly plans snowball into stuffing our faces with one last cupcake and me calling my mom to pick us up. Seconds later my mom’s man truck is in the driveway blasting the latest rap song via Kiss 108. Of course it being my mother she just must embarrassingly gossip about her co-worker, finally that part is over and we arrive at my house. Emily and I dressed in some hip clothes from my clothes from my closet (aka her floor-Norah) and we were off to the bank. Seeing as yesterday we had already gone to the bank twice to take out ridiculously large sums of money, there were already suspicions that we were buying drugs. Suspicions increased as the banker eyed Emily’s attire which was a pair of handy-me down trashy T-Y-T-E jeans form Justine. Eventually we were at Norah’s, where we were greeted by a dog no one had seen before running around her house. “Do you know who this is?” Norah asked her brother, after a head nod it was apparent it was just another one of Mrs. Flynn’s crazy dog friends. As Norah changed Emily and I confidently looked at the train schedules, there was a train at 12:13 20 minutes from then and just enough time to stop off at Mrs. Flynn work to pick up money. It was certain we were off to an un-stressful day in Boston. After an incident with a crying baby, we were exactly 2 minutes late for the train, luckily when we checked the schedule at the station, we had done something wrong and the train came at 12:19. We boarded the train and walked to an empty compartment as to be sure we were alone. As we sat Norah stated, “We just have to be back before seven, I have to baby-sit.”
“That’s okay we have to be at Josh’s at one point to so I was thinking of just taking like a 5:00 out?” I replied.
“Yeah, that gives us like 5 hours to shop.” Emily added.
AS thee train started moving so did our mouths, drowning out any noise not that any dared to penetrate our bubble of care-freeness. In a few minutes though, we were face to face with a bike with a cooler on the front, and backpack on the back and complete with a 40 year old man wearing a helmet, he took a seat next to us as we giggled a little at the sight and got back to talking. About 25 minutes later Emily asked “How do we to get to Harvard Square anyway?”
“You take the Green Line to Government Center, and then change to the Red Line which will bring you there” (wrong) exclaimed the 40 year old man bicyclist, “are you guys going to college?”
“Us, No!” we all said together.
We resumed regular conversation, about the Seventeen Magazine I was reading, the letter I had gotten in the mail and the fact that school was way to close. Apparently we were to engulfed in our conversation to notice that we had been stopped.
“Are we stopped!?!?” I asked.
“Yea, we have been for like 20 minutes now.” Replied our old friend the bicyclist, as our conductor guy walked in explaining that there was some medical emergency? And that if we weren’t moving in 25 minutes they would send buses to drive us to Boston. Sure enough after about 30 minutes we were backing the train up and evacuated
In the ghetto-ness which is Swap Scott. As we all debated on whether telling our parents a bus pulled up that each person ran to in a rush as if it was the only ride we would ever get, we all climbed on the bus leaving, many people sitting left Emily, Norah and I standing holding on to poles, and many people with suitcases pushed up against us. Our bus driver was borderline crazy as she strapped the bike to the front of the bus played some reggae music and flickered on and off the lights as she explained we should be happy, we had a cool bus driver and we could party. We had been going for about5 minutes when Eliza called my cell phone and we noticed we would not be home in time for Norah to baby-sit. Norah frantically called her mom to tell her dilemma. As I held on to the rail for dear life and talked on the phone at the same time so did Norah we were all about to fall as we came to a quick stop and the crazy bus driver yelling, “ I SCREAM YOU SCREAM WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM.” Soon we noticed we were next to an ice cream truck. Norah called Eliza, and because she is the best friend ever, she agreed to take Norah’s place if we could not get back, at this point there were no =trains running at all. Before we ended our ride on the bus we overheard a conversation explaining what had happened, apparently we were in the train which discovered a corpse on the track, and the man was hit 30 minutes prior. We arrived at North Station with cheers from the bus driver and were bid a farewell. Finally we were in Boston with an estimated 30 minutes until we were in Harvard Square. We bought a Charlie ticket each and were off to Government Center where we would transfer to the red line (wrong). WE entered Government Center to find that there was no red line. After asking a man we were told to get back on the subway we had just left and go to Park Street. Sure enough he was right. We were officially on the red line, going the wrong way. A cute old man and another lady (thank God for them) explained that we should get off at the next stop JFK and switch trains. We did so and were officially, perhaps on the right track (literally) to Harvard. We finally ended up in Harvard Square 30 minutes later, and checked the clock to see that it had taken us 4 hours to get to here. We ate Bertuccis outside to listen to this man playing singing oldies for money. After lunch I gave the waiter an extra 2 dollar tip and the man singing three dollars, during Strawberry Fields Forever. We then headed for Urban Outfitters; nothing exciting happened there, it was normal and amazing.
After Urban Outfitters we went to Jasmine Sola (holy expensiveness) and Muddo (crazy prices). I got a call from my loving 22 year old sister, angrily explaining that I had her pay check in my bag and her and her boyfriend were out of money on Newbury Street, therefore everything was my fault and we had to meet them there. We boarded a red line to Park Street and then changed to the extremely crowded green line, where there was no place to sit, or stand and I had to be squished against the door, which clearly stated do not lean. Closter phobia got the best of me and Emily craved a frappaciono out loud ( I just really wanted a frappaciono- Emily). We got of at Hynes Convention Center and made our way to Starbucks where we were informed there was no way my sister could cash her check so there was no reason being there. By now my feet killed, I had borrowed a pair of shoes from my sister, cute green sandals with no arch, and a heel, not a good idea. We gathered our things as we went to explore Newbury Street. In the distance Norah noticed a North Face store; the one for mountain climbers (is not- Norah). Now hopefully some of you remember Norah’s hideous back pack that made her look like a legit turtle. She was determined to find a “cool” back pack and for some reason she thought mountain climber was in. We hurried into the store and she found the “perfect one” which I thought was not. After some opinion swaying she found herself in line and examining all the “cool” features. One especially hilarious/ cool feature was that on the bottom of the bag there read, ISABELLA. “LOOK GUYS!” exclaimed Norah, “HER NAME IS ISABELLA.” This left us all on the floor laughing, and once again people suspicious we were on drugs we stumbled out of the store laughing and just enough time to go to Victoria’s Secret or so we thought. “Guys we don’t have enough time,” Norah told us and we knew in our hearts it was true. As we hung our head in sadness light shown across the street to Gap Body, and we found ourselves inside. Norah being left with only a dollar helped us pick out the perfect bras, and after much decision making we were in the changing rooms, with the lady helping Emily and Norah helping me. The sales lady was not to confident in Emily’s choices and in 5 minuets walked in with both arms FILLED with hangers attached to bras (she brought me the whole store. - Emily) As the lady dropped off the store in Emily’s dressing room we caught sight of the clock which told us we had 20 minuets to get back to the train, on the train and to north station. We bought some and ran down Newbury Street in a panic. We finally got to the Charlie ticket machine, and bought another ticket, just to make sure I checked my phone to make sure our train hadn’t been changed or anything. It had, to 9:17 or so it said. With Norah and Emily a little ticked off we walked back to star bucks for a bathroom and then to a small boutique next to Urban Outfitters, where Emily bought a pair of shoes and shirt 60% off. We continued down the street to a tacky jewelry shop, where we bought ridiculous duck necklaces, that you will see us wearing a lot. After that adventure we decided to get on the train to North Station. We sat on the train as the loudspeaker kept saying ASHMONT ASHMONT ASHMONT on different annoying voices as if they were one person trying to be funny. Finally off the train we were at North Station where my dad called and asked, “Are you guys on the train yet?”
“No, I answered it got changed to 9:17.”
“No it did not! There’s a 8:30 train its 8::32 now, you missed it by 2 minutes.” ( just our luck) afraid to tell the others what had happened I wirily looked through the phone to my father on the other line, “ Kara the next train out is at 11:15.”
I was in a panic; I had ruined our day 3 times to day why on earth did this have to happen?
I told my dad I would call my sister as Norah and Emily looked at me puzzled.
“Sissy, We are stuck at North Station, when are you going home please come pick us up please.” By that time Norah and Emily saw what was wrong and I was near tears.
“Kara, I’m not there any more… I am in the car with Danielle.” I was going to cry, as my dad beeped in I said goodbye to my sister, as if it was my last time (Dramatica) and picked up with my dad.
“I am on my way.” He said and just like that my father was once again, a super hero like when I was 5. I explained our predicament to my friends and we sat in down on a bench.
“Someone has to make the story.” Said Emily, and it was true, someone had to tell of what our un-stressful day had become. Both eyes shot toward me, “you are the creative one”. It was agreed I would write the story we ran to McDonalds, and asked for a pen no luck, so we took about 20 napkins and went to the ticket booth.
“Do you have a pen?” I asked through the hole.
“Yeah.” Said the lady who passed me a BIC© pen, my favorite.
“I can keep this? Forever?” My nerdy writer self got a hold of me I got to keep this pen? Sweet!
“No you can’t.” The lady replied. I awkwardly put my hand up through the hole and returned the pen with a , “never mind”.
“We will give it back” chirped in Norah and I nodded.
About four minutes later we were writing our story, on napkins J.K Rowling style we called it. Norah pulled out Isabella, and showed us where everything would go.
“Obviously this is for pencils… (Wrong it was for a flashlight or survival gear) umm... this one is for… my… SNACKS! And umm... This one is for.. My … CHOCLATE!” as she pointed in side her new survival bag for hardcore mountain climbers a man approached us. “Hi girls, not to bother you but my wife and I, we were stranded here... by our family... my brother... And um, we bought a ticket… and umm we need a small fry which is 1.67 could anyone spare a couple dollars?” it was an obvious lie, and I’m pretty sure I recognized him from when we feed the homeless, but obviously we obliged and Emily handed him 3 dollars. We resumed to writing as my father called to pick us up. And I guess that is where the story ends? But how can such an adventure just end you ask? It doesn’t only the story itself has ended, the adventure will always live on.

This story is dedicated to the death of one man on a unfortunate day who was hit by a train, and caused us to have the adventure of our lives, Rest In Peace.

"This will certify that the above work is completely original."





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback